


Today, Tomorrow, Forevermore

by Renai_chan



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: All the Dangers of One-Night Stands, CEO!Harry, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Discussions of BDSM, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Nipple Play, PA!Eggsy, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Rimming, discussions of Exhibitionism, slut!Eggsy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-01-21 19:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12464445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: When the guy you had afantasticshag with one night turns up at your job interview... as your potential boss.





	1. Today

**Author's Note:**

> I've been remiss in my line of duty as a Kingsman fic writer, especially towards [Mortal Obsessions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5912077/chapters/13614769), [A Changed Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5694553/chapters/13117612), and [For the Price of One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768454/chapters/10905446). I've been trying to deal with a massive writer's block that TGC had not managed to fix. I'm _trying_ to like it, especially with all the hints toward Hartwin (I mean, _really_. It was so completely unsubtle, which made the whole marriage thing afterwards just not work :/  (Oh and how is he supposed to be spy now for the third movie when he's going to be a bloody _prince_??) ). But the thing I hated most was that _they killed Roxy and Merlin_! What the actual fuck?! I mean Merlin's, I understand, even if I hate it, but Roxy's especially was so un- _fucking_ -necessary. So yeah. Writer's block :/
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one in the meantime. Inspired by [Texts from the Tailors](textsfromthetailors.tumblr.com) and Saucery's [The Interview](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150229).
> 
>  

Okay, so the trousers he picked up yesterday in the pound shop might have been a little tartier than his usual affair, Eggsy had to admit. They hung far, far too low on his hips. So low, in fact, that he'd had to shave himself down there completely lest the filth decide to charge him with public indecency. He'd also had to rip them at the knee because they were so tight it would have been difficult to bend his knees without it, and _that_ would have put a dent on many of the night's activities, so rip they went. Nevertheless, paired with a fitted black tee that rode up the planes of his stomach if he so much as shrugged his shoulders and his favorite white cap and winged shoes, Eggsy considered them a success from the stares he snagged along the street as he strolled into his usual club.

Despite the long line waiting to get in, he bypassed the entrance bouncers with only a wink and a blown kiss because he was a regular there and they knew him well, but mostly because he had spent many a night in the bed of the fit-as-fuck head of security and earned himself some side privileges to go with the occasional fantastic shags. 

Inside was a familiar scene: flickering lights, a thumping bass, gyrating bodies as scantily dressed as he was, drinks held aloft to avoid spillage, booths around the edge perpetually filled with tired dancers and couples making out. It wasn't a sight that should have inspired the relaxation and comfort it did in Eggsy, but here, away from his home and the toxicity it wrought upon his life, he was in his element.

It took seconds to slip across the dance floor, receiving at least three offers to dance along the way and a fair few appreciative gropes, all of which he brushed off with a wink, but even as easy as it was, by the time he reached the bar, a drink was already waiting for him, "compliments of the gentleman at the end."

He was fit beneath his tee and rugged, with a goatee that worked with his shaved head. A _lot_ of potential, but Eggsy had all night to kill; he wasn't going to run into a bloke's bed from one drink. 

He had two default settings: chav in the streets and tart between the sheets. A cheap lay was neither one of them. A free drink, however, was always to be appreciated, so he tipped the glass to the man in thanks and tumbled it's contents down his throat in one go. His benefactor would be over in a moment, Eggsy knew, taking the acceptance of the drink as an invitation, and Eggsy would decide then whether or not to follow him home, but in the meantime, he turned his back to him and leaned back against the bar to scan the crowd, arching his back casually to maybe let his shirt ride higher and his jeans lower. For that, he earned himself a multitude of admiring looks.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" came a familiar purr, accentuated with the cadence of someone who grew up in Israel but spent the better part of his adulthood in Britain. Antoine, one of Eggsy's more frequent conquests, upon emerging from the crowd, ran an affectionate, if sensual, caress up the bared flat of his stomach to his ribs, and a hot gaze down, admiring the fly of Eggsy's jeans and what lay beneath it. Eggsy gave him an easy smile and dragged him closer by the front of his shirt so that his thigh fit between Eggsy's. "Careful, love," murmured the man against Eggsy's ear when he allowed for a kiss to the cheek. "Those trousers aren't decent enough to hide your cock now, much less when you have me between your legs."

"'Ello, guv," he greeted warmly, grinning the teasing admonishment because while he didn't doubt what Antonie said, neither did it hurt his chances of snagging himself a partner tonight. "Y' 'aven't been 'round in a while. I 'eard you found yerself some new toy to play wiv?" He pouted for better effect, but both of them knew they were only ever going to be casual lovers.

"And I hear you've never been lacking for a bed to warm anyway." Antoine looked down again. "Though I can see why."

Eggsy smirked. "Care fer a round fer ol' times' sake?" To that, Antoine put on a laughingly fake pained look.

"Alas, my darling, fate has decided to divide us, for my wonderful Rhonda is on my arm tonight," he declared dramatically, making Eggsy laugh.

"You won't invite me to yer bed, but she don't mind you grinding up against me?"

"I'm warming her to the idea of fucking you too," said Antoine with a glint in his eye, but despite the promise in his voice, he released Eggsy from his hold, leaving only an arm around his waist. He turned away to scan the crowd and, finding who he was looking for, gestured a quick 'come here' above the heads of the dancers. A lovely blonde woman with a height and stature befitting a partner of Antoine's--tall and not at all waifish, that is--emerged, eyeing Antoine's arm around Eggsy, not with distaste, but not with approval either. "Rhonda, my love," Antoine crooned, trading Eggsy for her and pressing a warm kiss to her cheek. "This is the Eggsy I told you about." Eggsy tipped his chin up in greeting while tucking his hands into his front pockets, inevitably dragging them down further.

"Alright?" he said, amused now that her eyes shimmered with the beginnings of interest.

"It's a pleasure," was her answer, thick with a Scandinavian accent Eggsy couldn't place. There were an awkward few seconds in between that Eggsy decided to end with a "Well, I'mma have me a look around, yeah?" As fun as Antoine was in bed, it was clear that Rhonda wasn't quite open to the idea yet, and Eggsy didn't have to spend his time trying to convince her when there were so many other options around. 

Antoine let him go with a shrug, a smile, and a kiss."Maybe next time, eh?"

With them gone, Eggsy once more turned to see if his admirer had decided to act on the offered drink but only found the seat at the end of the bar vacant. Upon scanning the crowd, he found him cozying up with a girl on the dance floor. Antoine's presence must have shooed him off, Eggsy decided, and he blew out a mildly frustrated breath. No matter. He'd find himself someone else easily enough.

"Anyone interesting tonight," he asked the bartender, Kyrin, a friend who Eggsy trusts to watch his drinks. 

"None that you 'aven't done yet," Kyrin laughed. He handed Eggsy a glass of rum and coke before jerking his chin towards the right side of the club. "Maybe the suit in the booth. 'E's been 'ere a fair few times before, never seen you leave wiv 'im, so 'e might be what counts as fresh meat in your book." Eggsy made a face at him, but grinned anyway and turned to see where Kyrin indicated. True enough, he found a older man in a suit, sitting in one of the booths further from the club entrance, a drink in hand and entertaining a young man with nothing more than his words. Even when the tramp tried putting on the moves and sultry eyes, the suit wasn't to be deterred from his casual, almost stoic tale-telling. Unsuccessful, the young man pouted, made his excuses and left.

Eggsy'd seen him before on two occasions. The first briefly when the man had left before Eggsy did, then the next while Eggsy was on a conquest's arm on his way out. It was quite hard to miss that tall a drink of water poured into a double-breasted suit that even Eggsy, who hadn't the first clue about wearing suits, could see had been tailored to his eyeballs. 

Rich and gorgeous were a potent combination that had slag after slag working themselves into his booth when the one before them had failed, but Eggsy didn't _pursue_ \--he made himself visibly available, unavoidably delectable, and those who wanted pursued. So in lieu of fawning over the suit, he made his way onto the dance floor and like time and time again, lost himself in it.

Bodies pressed up against him from all sides, some in the process of their own dancing, some more deliberately. Eggsy encouraged the latter, seeking out dance partners that appealed to him either artistically--because Eggsy had few talents of his own, but what kind of chav would he be if he couldn't properly throw it down on the dance floor?--or sexually because that was the end goal of tonight's excursion, wasn't it? And so he reeled in flexible girls that swayed against him, grinding up against his front and teasing him in all the right ways, and threw himself at the boys that didn't hesitate to jam a hand down his pants and grope his arse while practically rutting against him in only the vaguest definition of dancing. Oftentimes, he had both.

He laughed and he danced and he kissed and he teased, feeling like he had the world at his feet.

And then he opened his eyes and found the suit by the entrance, watching him through his tortoise-shell glasses.

He said nothing, did nothing but watch Eggsy with his head held high and his back straight, giving off an _air_ that cleared for him a swathe of people who unconsciously avoided the space in which he stood. There was a patient interest on his face that professed his confidence that, while Eggsy could dance and flirt and seduce all he wanted, he was going home with no one else but him tonight, and Eggsy _knew_ he was right. 

So he held the suit's gaze and tipped his head back against the shoulder of Jayden behind him who would have been a promising end to the night but was now a mere tool to ruffle the suit's feathers. To make him _want_.

He reached up to wind the fingers of one hand in Jayden's hair and pull his face down to his neck, prompting him to kiss and suck and bite at the proffered flesh with a few choice words and a specific tone of voice that he hoped the suit could hear across the thumping bass. When the suit's eyes narrowed slightly, Eggsy grinned. It was impossible that he'd heard, but the intention was received as intended anyway, and Eggsy had no doubt he'd be made to use the same tone of voice again that night.

He wound the fingers of his other hand into Jayden's, bringing the flat of his partner's palm up to his mouth and licking a broad, sloppy strip up the center of it. Jayden groaned in his ear, but Eggsy had no choice but to ignore him when the suit shifted where he stood. Slowly and with great care, he took Jayden's hand and guided it down, down, down, right down into the front of his pants where his cock--hard and, like Antoine promised, nearly peeking out of his indecent trousers--was taken into hand and gripped hard.

His moan was deliberately played up and so was the way he tossed his head back and writhed in Jayden's embrace, but it was real enough for the other man who hissed in his ear, "You like that, slut? Yeah, yeah. You love that. I'mma fuck your tight arse so hard you ain't gonna sit right fer a _week_."

"Mmm," Eggsy halfheartedly agreed, wondering how much longer the suit was going to allow the charade. Maybe he enjoyed watching, who knew? But Eggsy hoped he wanted more than just to watch.

He peeked open to find the suit tilt his head at him, a question and a demand all at once, and Eggsy only had to give the barest of nods before he started forward to claim Eggsy from his dance partner. 

And oh what a sight he was, striding forward like he owned the place and everyone in it.

Where Eggsy had navigated through the dance floor like a swimmer in the sea, engaging the water in graceful ways, slipping through it in fluid motions, compromising and adapting to its current, the suit simply parted it like Moses and the Red Sea with purposeful strides and a powerful aura that pulled Eggsy in as surely as the Moon pulled the tides. 

Eggsy stepped away from Jayden, ignoring the indignant protest, to give the suit the prettiest of his smirks. He stepped forward once more to bring himself right up against the man to finger at his lapels and surreptitiously slide his hands all the way up and around his neck.

"'Ello, guv," he murmured. "You lookin' for sumfin' t' play wiv?"

"I am," was the easy response along with the proprietary arm sliding around his waist, "Just as soon as he's finished with his own games." And god-- _god!_ , his voice: just the slightest bit throaty with a warm aftertaste in a perfect Received Pronunciation. Eggsy wanted to learn to come just from having that voice in his ear.

"Excuse you!" Jayden cut in, drawing an annoyed glare from the suit that had him faltering briefly. "I saw him first!" Eggsy almost laughed, suddenly glad that Jayden never amounted to anything more than some public groping because it was at that point that Eggsy knew he would never have risen to expectations.

What Eggsy wanted--what Eggsy _needed_ was a man with a firm presence and a firmer hand. Who knew what he wanted and demanded nothing less and knew what his partner needed and gave so much more.

"Indeed," was the suit's only unimpressed response and then he was leading Eggsy away from the fuming man and the rest of the club behind them. 

Outside, the cold wind shifted the amusement of the mood, and Eggsy found himself shoved up against a random car, pinned in place by the hands on his wrists and the cock against his hips. The man's mouth was on his own, taking and taking and taking until Eggsy was drowning in the kiss. His hands twisted in the grip, demanding to be set free so that he could mess up the suit's perfectly coiffed hair and hold him against his mouth forever. The suit only chuckled at his attempt, parting far enough that Eggsy couldn't follow.

"Will it be too much to expect you to behave for me?" he asked, his voice pitched in an even lower tone for maximum orgasmic effect. His light brown eyes sparkled with heat and amusement from behind his glasses.

"Guv, if you wanted some wispy little tramp, you'da been better off wiv Trevor back in 'ere," Eggsy answered, grinning up at him and leaning forward to encourage more kisses. The suit granted him several smaller ones in succession until Eggsy was whining in the back of his throat for more. "Come on, come on, come on," he mumbled.

"I was actually considering moving to a more suitable location, somewhere I can properly ravage you until you forget your own name," the suit murmured against his mouth. "Would you, by any chance, find that an acceptable alternative?" 

A small whine escaped Eggsy when he answered, "Eggsy." The suit pulled back, a lovely grin on his face and a questioning quirk to his brow. 

"Eggsy then," he said and kissed Eggsy once more, deep and demanding until Eggsy was dizzy from it.

"'S rude not to return the favor," Eggsy pointed when his tongue was returned to him. "I need something to call you other than 'the suit.'"

The man laughed, bright and genuine in surprise. "The suit?" he asked.

"Would you have preferred speccy? Old dude?" Eggsy answered, eyes wide in feigned innocence.

"Mmm," the other man hummed, thoughtful, while he enfolded Eggsy into another kiss, releasing his wrists to wrap both arms around his waist. "I think I'd rather keep you wondering," he murmured, low and teasing.

“Yeah?” Eggsy murmured back even as a heat trickled down his spine and liquefied his insides.

“Mm. How about you just call me ‘Daddy,’” he said with a broad grin that revealed far too many teeth to be called anything less than shark-like.

Eggsy laughed. “Kinky fucker,” he teased and suddenly received a sharp pinch to his backside that made him both yelp and jerk forward.

“That wasn’t the name I told you to call me,” the suit said.

A moan was riding high in his throat, turning his words breathless. “ _Daddy_ ,” Eggsy amended, apologetic, but also _fucking turned on_ from his still smarting arsecheek. He received a bright look of approval before being once more swept up in a kiss. This time, now that his hands were free, he made good on his plan to thoroughly mess up Daddy’s hair just so he could drag him closer and keep their lips pressed together when Daddy started to pull away.

“Darling, don’t you want to move to a more private location?” Daddy mumbled between their mouths.

“Couldn’t fucking care,” Eggsy mumbled back before silencing Daddy again. Except that Daddy was laughing into his mouth which wasn’t very nice, so he pulled away and pouted.

Daddy brushed a thumb over his lower lip, soothing the pout away, and offered, “I could fuck you here, darling.” And yes. Yes, that was what Eggsy wanted. “Shove you up against the side of the club and pry you open with my cock. I’ll make you see fucking _stars_ , and then I’ll let you go back inside, loose and wet for the next cock to take my place.” And _fuck_ that sounded damn good, but--“But that is all we’re going to do tonight. _Or_ ,” Daddy said and punctuated it with a kiss. “Or, my darling, I could take you down the block and procure us the best room we can find and do wicked--” Kiss. “--wicked--” Another kiss. “--absolutely _depraved_ things to your body.”

“I think we have a winner, Daddy,” Eggsy grinned, winding his fingers in Daddy’s tie to keep him within kissing distance and then kissing him because, well, he was right there. 

“Are you going to let me go long enough so that we can get there?” Daddy teased when he was reluctantly relinquished.

“You can carry me?” Eggsy suggested, complete with batted eyelashes, because he was impatient and maybe a little bit of a brat. Daddy laughed and kissed him, but then he pulled away, which what so _not on_. Eggsy was on the verge of pouting and complaining, but Daddy wound their fingers together and sent a ton of butterflies to stifle Eggsy’s complaints.

“I have a car,” Daddy told him, leading him to this supposed car. “I _should_ teach you not to be lazy, but I suppose we have all night for that.” And Eggsy had a _wonderful_ reply for that, top notch, really, but then they came upon Daddy’s [car](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/6e/41/52/6e4152718235b33a4ac29e08baa92ce7.jpg) and Eggsy _died_.

“Holy fuck!” Eggsy exclaimed and practically fell to his knees to caress it, fender to bumper.

“I take it you like it?” Daddy asked, amused.

“Holy shit! Can we fuck in ‘ere instead?” Eggsy’s head whipped to him, pleading, eyes wide. Daddy only laughed. "I'd let you do me on top of 'er right 'ere if you want. She's _gorgeous_."

"As pretty as you'd look on the hood of my car, maybe another time," Daddy told him as he hustled him inside. Eggsy was torn between gawking more at the interior, pretending to pout that he wasn't getting what he wanted, and seducing Daddy a bit more. In the end, when Daddy slid his mile-long legs into the driver's seat and flashed Eggsy a disarming smile, he decided that the car wasn't going to be as fun as Daddy was.

"You usually go around at night picking up young boys from noisy clubs in yer hot-as-fuck car? Yer wife don' mind?" he asked teasingly.

"Oh, my wife minds," Daddy answered.

And hold up. 

Wait.

Eggsy was on the verge of asking him to pull over because Eggsy may be a slut and a half, but he wasn't a goddamned _homewrecker_.

But Daddy only gave a short laugh at what Eggsy could imagine was his highly alarmed expression and clarified, "Of course by 'wife' I do mean my very male, very straight, very _single_ VP who certainly nags me enough to qualify for the title. You don't have to worry, Eggsy. I'm all yours tonight."

Eggsy blew out a breath of relief and settled back into his seat. "Yer a bit of a shit, ain't you?" he said, but there was a grin on his face that belied his teasing tone.

"My VP tells me so everyday, so it must be true," Daddy answered.

Eggsy would have asked then what Daddy did for a living because "VP" meant he owned or was part of the corporate world, only they came upon the hotel by then which, as promised, had only been a block away. Daddy handed the keys to the valet, took Eggsy's hand, and led them both into the lobby. 

At the front desk, he handed over a card and practically crooned, "Your best room, please," words that _should_ have come off as arsey, but only sounded suave and sophisticated spoken in Daddy's tone and with his charming smile. Soon enough, they were sliding up the side of the building in the elevator, and Daddy's mouth was on his and his hands were down Eggsy's pants, firmly groping both cheeks to grind their cocks together.

"Can't even fucking fit my hands in," Daddy grumbled into his mouth, complaining about his _trousers_ of all things when Eggsy was, like, 86% sure they were the reason Daddy had his hands in them at all. He only giggled in response and wriggled helpfully to let Daddy feel him up better. "They aren't even close to your size. Where in the world did you get them? The children's department?"

"Aww, quit complaining, Daddy. I'll have them off soon enough.”

“Oh, no, darling, you misunderstand,” Daddy explained. “I want to buy you _more_.” Eggsy laughed, loud and bright and genuinely amused. Daddy was certainly shaping up to be one of his better conquests. He only hoped he’d be a frequent one.

“We gonna fuck ‘ere in the elevator then or are you gonna let me go long enough to get in the room?” he asked. Of course, he was deliberately thrusting his cock up against Daddy’s just to hear him growl.

“Maybe I should take you right here? Punish you for your cheek,” Daddy suggested.

“You ain’t gonna be punishin’ nothin,’ Daddy,” was Eggsy’s answer. “You might even be encouragin’ it.”

“Shameless,” Daddy scolded, but he had a smile on his face, so Eggsy knew he loved it. The elevator dinged, so Daddy reluctantly released him. “Come on then, darling,” Daddy told him, with a light slap to his arse. Eggsy laughed and grabbed Daddy by his tie, walking backward and dragging him along toward the room and stealing kisses in between. Debatably the best part was the middle-aged man--older than Eggsy but younger than Daddy--they passed in the hall with a scandalized look on his face. Eggsy grinned at him and gave a little finger wave before Daddy hurried him to the room to press him up against the front door while they fumbled with the key.

“‘Ang on,” Eggsy laughed, trying to figure out how the damn keycard worked. Daddy kissed the back of his neck, making him laugh some more and bat him away. Where was the fucking _slot_? “The fuck d’you do this?” he whined.

Daddy took the card out of his hand and held it up to a shiny black part on the front of the door and immediately a small green light blipped, and then Daddy was shoving him inside and up against a wall before the door had even shut behind them.

Eggsy groaned and curled one leg around Daddy’s waist to drag him closer so that their cocks lined up properly and then Daddy was thrusting urgently against him, seemingly determined to fuck him through their trousers.

“Daddy, daddy--god, _please_ ,” Eggsy begged into his mouth. It wasn’t enough--it was so far from enough that he wanted to cry.

Instead of throwing him onto the bed and thoroughly savaging him, though, Daddy suddenly stopped and peeled himself away with a last kiss to his cheek.

“The fuck…?” Eggsy asked, grabbing at his clothes to pull him back, so Daddy gave him one more deep kiss, though it had lost all of its urgency.

“Why don’t we have a proper shower first, darling?” Daddy suggested.

“Not down fer doin’ it dirty?” Eggsy asked, his tone somewhere between a pout and a tease.

“I was actually thinking shower sex,” was Daddy’s nonchalant response, and once more, Eggsy laughed, firmly cementing Daddy’s place in his “must fuck” book should he choose it.

“A’ight. C’mere,” he agreed, dragging Daddy further into the (very nice!) hotel room. Daddy allowed him to do so with an indulgent smile on his face and no protest, so Eggsy, peeking up at him through his eyelashes, rewarded him by undulating his body against the front of his.

“Oh, _yes_. That is lovely,” Daddy murmured, low in approval, grasping at Eggsy’s swaying hips. Eggsy lit up at the compliment and wrapped his arms loosely around Daddy’s neck, giving him a more muted, sensual version of the gyrating dance he’d given Jayden in the club earlier. Daddy’s eyes filled with approval, with lust, with _want_ as his hands tightened on Eggsy’s hips, carving out dents that only he would be able to re-fill. 

In the span of a few minutes, he seemed to be on the verge of _finally_ breaking, as Eggsy had initially wanted, but no. He wanted a shower, din’t he? So Eggsy maneuvered them around to sit Daddy on the bed before stepping back, pointedly out of Daddy’s reach, and giving him a slow, seductive little striptease.

“You horrid boy,” Daddy accused, but he was stroking his cock through his trousers, so Eggsy paid him no mind. His body twirled and swayed and bobbed and waved, all precise and controlled measures, however random they appeared to be, shedding clothes as he went.

His pants were the last to go. He gave Daddy a wink and a grin before spinning around to give Daddy a good view of his arse as he shed them, but when he turned back to tease Daddy a little more, he found the older man suddenly _there_ right in front of him, growling and kissing him.

Once more, he was pressed up against a wall, both his legs hitched around Daddy’s waist. His arse was kneaded harshly, nearly painfully, and fingers brushed against his hole, making him keen a high pitched tone. Those fingers pressed a little further against his opening, not enough to breach. A promise more than anything, and Eggsy sought to feel them in him.

“Wash yourself,” Daddy growled. “Wait for me in there.” And god, oh god.

Eggsy scrambled towards the shower, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. He fiddled with the dials to find the temperature just _this_ side of too hot and flung himself beneath it. 

And then Daddy was there before he could begin his wash, pressed up against his back from ankle to shoulder and his cock molded firmly between the cheeks of his arse. Eggsy moaned and tipped his head back over Daddy’s shoulder, grinding back to feel the organ rub against his hole. Daddy moaned at that, encouraging him by rutting forward.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, audible over the shower only because it was said right next to his ear. Daddy leaned over to pick the shower gel off the shelf and coat one hand with it, all while sliding his cock up and down the cleft of Eggsy’s arse in some, frankly, impressive display of coordination given the circumstances.

The second it disappeared, though, Eggsy whined a loud protest, but then Daddy’s cock was replaced with his hand that rubbed an intense pressure between his cheeks.

“Oh!” Eggsy cried out, falling forward to brace himself against the shower wall while Daddy lathered up his crack, teasing Eggsy’s hole each time his fingers glided over it. Eggsy begged for it, for more, pushing back against the hand, moaning like a whore after a paycheck.

And more came when a soapy finger slid into his hole all the way to the knuckle in a slow glide, and Eggsy moaned, “Ohhhh…”

His head fell forward, hanging between his forearms while that single finger slid in and out with no resistance, rubbing at his walls and twisting and turning inside. “Daddy, please...” A second finger slid in in response to his pleading, splitting him and filling him in equal turns and rubbing and twisting like the first had done, and Eggsy could only moan.

It was slow, much too slow and too little stimulation for him to approach orgasm, nevermind that Eggsy’s brain was fizzing at the edges like steel wool pressed to a battery. “Please,” he managed because two fingers were simply not enough. Not remotely _close_ to enough.

Daddy said nothing, but his fingers slipped out, and Eggsy refrained from whining because he knew that whatever was coming next would be nothing short of a reward. He’d been _good_.

A blast of water suddenly shot at his lower back--from the handheld showerhead, he knew--and Daddy’s hand was back between his arse and inside his hole, cleaning methodically rather than sensually and _that_ made the shameless Eggsy Unwin blush bright red. 

“Daddy…!” he did whine this time because it was moderately _embarrasing_ was what it was.

“Shhh,” Daddy hushed but continued to wash him even past the point that Eggsy was sure he’d gotten all the soap off.

“Daddy…” he repeated when Daddy wouldn’t stop fondling his arse on the pretense of washing. “Come on, Daddy, fuck me already…”

“Shush, Eggsy,” Daddy repeated, but he did stop all the same. The handheld showerhead disappeared, and then Daddy urged Eggsy forward until his cheek was pressed to the wall and his arse sticking out far behind him. Daddy then took both of his hands and pressed them to either arsecheek, then told him “Hold yourself open for me.”

“Fuck,” was the most intelligent thing Eggsy could come up with at the moment, but he obeyed Daddy nonetheless and was rewarded _handsomely_ when Daddy fell to his knees behind him and _pressed his lips to Eggsy’s hole_. 

“Holy fuck!” Eggy cried out. His hips inadvertently thrust back against the warm press of Daddy’s mouth, seeking the heat and grinding into his face as Daddy ate him out, but he could barely find embarrassment in his actions because in the next moment, a soapy hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock and stroked the length of it with the same nonchalance as when Daddy cleaned his arse.

“Oh god, Daddy, fuckfuck _fuuuuck_...!” Eggsy moaned. 

It hadn’t been the first time he’d been eaten out, but having his arsehole literally kissed was a rare enough occurrence that it straddled the line between hot as fuck and weird as fuck. But Daddy was _so good_ at it--much better than Eggsy had had in the past. So good, that it overshadowed the pair of hands stroking his cock and soaping up his balls. It felt like Daddy actually _enjoyed_ this, licking and kissing and sucking like his life depended on it. 

The filthy sounds of it, audible over the patter of water, sent thrills rushing through Eggsy, heating his face and sending goosebumps all over his body. He very nearly sobbed beneath the dual ministrations on his nether regions, his senses overloaded and his orgasm imminent.

And then Daddy started fucking him with his tongue, and Eggsy was _done_ hiding all pretenses. He wailed loudly, echoing in the tiny bathroom. 

His position afforded him no peace of mind. He wanted to grab onto Daddy’s hair or press his hands against the wall to secure him down to Earth when he felt like he was going to float away, but he held onto the last tangible thought of keeping himself open for Daddy because Daddy _told him to_ while all other thoughts escaped him with every sob that bubbled straight out of his chest.

He felt off-kilter, untethered while Daddy’s tongue pried him loose and tasted his most secret of places, stroking his inner walls with languid calmness in one moment and an urgency in the next.

His cock throbbed maddeningly, urged nearly to bursting by the hands on it. His balls were stroked and squeezed lightly, as if to urge out its contents. They tried to shy away from the touch, but Daddy knew how to coax them back to be fondled some more. His shaft was tugged at at the same time, squeezed just a little bit tighter than his balls were, a delicious pressure that Eggsy wanted to thrust into and fuck until he came, but the mouth on his arse prevented him from doing so, unwilling as he were to dislodge it, and so he could only sob in frustration.

“Daddy,” he croaked, when he felt his arousal approach its tipping point. “Daddy. I’m gunna come,” Eggsy warned--pleaded really, begging with his voice what his words didn’t say. 

_Please let me come_.

“Go on, darling,” up floated Daddy’s whispered permission before his mouth was back on Eggsy, ravaging him with even more enthusiasm, and Eggsy was _gone_.

He wailed into the bathroom wall without a hint of holding back, his body seized tight lest he dislodge the sources of his orgasm. Daddy continued to stimulate him, never slowing or stopping, until the last of his come spurted out of his cock and the tension of his body immediately released.

He heard Daddy gargle and spit before he was spun around and pushed up against the wall, Daddy’s mouth on his once more with Eggsy eagerly kissing back, wanting to taste himself on Daddy’s tongue. His cock, spent and flaccid between them, was stroked with the same methodical purpose of rinsing off the soap on it as Daddy did his arse, but this time, Eggsy felt no burn of embarrassment, only the slight tingle of oversensitivity.

“I hope you know I’m not yet done with you,” Daddy told him. 

The shower winded down while Eggsy smiled loopily up at him and said, “I _hope_ fucking not. Fuckin’ awesome as it was ‘avin’ yer tongue up me arse, it’s this I really want up there.” His hand wrapped around Daddy’s cock, still stiff as board and squeezed it lightly, making Daddy growl.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his accent curling around the consonants.

“Yeah, that,” Eggsy agreed, laughing as Daddy shooed him out of the shower and onto the bed still wet as all fuck.

As soon as the cold air and cool sheets hit his skin, his nipples perked up to mimic the goosebumps that had erupted all over his body. When Daddy followed him a moment later, like Eggsy, still dripping wet--and looking fucking _gorgeous_ \--his hands immediately found them and _pinched_.

Eggsy’s thoughts on waxing poetical about Daddy’s fit-as-fuck body--seriously, the man had to be well past fifty but looked _hot as all fuck_ \--derailed. He shouted, loud and shocked, and his body arched up into Daddy’s touch. He almost, _almost_ didn’t feel Daddy moving to straddle him because the other insisted on destroying his brain cells by playing with his nipples.

He pulled on them, pinched them, twisted them with a marginally sadistic glee, but the worst was when he teased them by lightly flicking the very tips with his index fingers. The ticklish feel only made his face flame.

“Daddy…” he protested, trying to bat Daddy’s hands away, but Daddy took his hands and pinned them to his sides with his knees and then continued his little flicking torture ritual until Eggsy’s nipples were oversensitized and he was wailing and writhing beneath him.

“Say ‘red’ and I’ll stop,” Daddy said. “Whatever it is we’re doing, if you say ‘red,’ I’ll stop, do you understand?”

Eggsy was intimately familiar with a safeword, but Daddy was still playing with his nipples and so instead of explaining how well he understood, he only nodded his head frantically, dislodging the tears that his built up at the corners of his eyes.

“ _Good_ boy,” Daddy breathed out, sounding enamoured, nearly reverent. 

Eggsy was hard again--he couldn’t believe he was in such a short time, but at the same time, how couldn’t he be? He had a wonderful Daddy astride him, treating him in all the ways he had ever hoped a partner would treat him, plucking at him like a master musician would at the strings of an instrument. How could he possibly not be?

“Daddy, _please_ ,” he begged, sincerely desperate. With his arousal and his throbbing cock, he felt the ghost of Daddy’s tongue caressing once more at his hole, reminding him that he was _so fucking empty_. “Please, Daddy, pleaseplease _please_.”

“Yes, darling, yes,” Daddy murmured, but he was _still fucking playing with Eggsy’s nipples_.

“Fuck me, Daddy. I need it. _God_ , I need you, Daddy. Daddy, _please_ ,” Eggsy continued to beg, hoping that it would be enough to prompt Daddy into action.

Daddy murmured unintelligible but agreeable responses and then one hand released Eggsy’s nipple so that Daddy could reach for something on the nightstand. Eggsy watched him tear open a condom packet with his teeth even as his other hand deigned to relinquish its hold on the other nub, only doubling its efforts to compensate for the one that had. The imbalance brought a renewed sensation to the forefront of his mind that he barely registered Daddy resettling between his legs and pushing one knee up to his chest.

But when a pair of slick fingers sunk into his hole, all thoughts of his sensitized chest redirected south, and he started babbling pleas once more.

Daddy’s voice was thick and dark with arousal when he purred, “Look at you. Look how well you take my fingers, darling.” The praised spread heat all over Eggsy’s skin. “How many more can you take? Four? Five? Can you take my whole hard, darling boy? Would you let me fuck you with my fist, I wonder?” Eggsy sobbed freely now, the thought of Daddy’s whole fucking _hand_ in him making him clench around Daddy’s fingers. A purr rumbled out of Daddy who then pushed a third finger in Eggsy to “loosen you up for my cock, lovely boy… make you nice and wet… keep you that way. God, if you were mine, I’d keep you filled up all the time. Plug your arse so that I can take you whenever I want.” God. _God_.

“Daddy…” Eggsy sobbed, grinding down against Daddy’s fingers. But almost as soon as he did, they were gone, and he very nearly wailed a protest.

“Shhh, shhhh,” Daddy soothed, and in the next moment, the blunt hard head of his cock was pressed against Eggsy’s hole, and he _did_ wail. “Wonderful boy,” Daddy praised through gritted teeth. The rubber of the condom created a friction that lit up Eggsy’s insides, and for the first time in the long string of one night stands and casual partners he’s had, he wished it were gone.

Daddy’s length filled him up slowly, sending lines of fire racing up his spine. The arsehole stretched to accommodate him, painfully, but the pain only heightened the pleasure of it, like the heat chili added to a dish. His moan was long and drawn out until Daddy bottomed out in him, his arse fitted snugly in the bend of Daddy’s pelvis, elevated by his thighs.

Eggsy braced himself for what he hoped was the dicking of a lifetime because Daddy was fit and gorgeous and the right kinds of filthy. His cock was a firm presence that demanded constant attention, and Eggsy was willing to give it everything in return for being fucked hard and fast. Every shift in Daddy's body, every breath, Eggsy could feel through his cock, each one making him whimper for more.

Daddy once more shifted and leaned over him, pushing his cock even further inside Eggsy. He could feel its shaft rub against his prostate, sending delicious shivers through him. His own cock throbbed at the thought of getting it pounded into fucking oblivion until he was a mess of tears beneath Daddy. He would beg for it--dear god, he would--without an ounce of shame. If only Daddy would _start moving_.

But then Daddy's hands once more came up to his nipples, grasping them once more between each thumb and forefinger.

"Daddy, no," Eggsy protested weakly. They were already sore and sensitive from the treatment earlier, and Daddy's rough fingertips only chafed them further. Daddy only smiled darkly, an almost sinister thing that thrilled Eggsy to his very core. Oh, how Eggsy wanted to keep him.

"You know what to say if you want me to stop," Daddy reminded him. "Until you do, darling, I want you to come just from this." He teased both nubs with a short wiggle that drew a low whine.

"Daddy, I can't," Eggsy continued to protest. He wanted to be _fucked_ goddammit, not teased for hours and hours upon end. He shut his eyes as though that would dim the sensations wreaking havoc on his body.

"Don't you want to be good for me, darling boy?" Daddy crooned. He gave Eggsy a shallow thrust under the guise of shifting his position, the utter bastard, and Eggsy accidentally moaned an assent. "Of course you do," he said, thrusting once more. It was almost enough-- _almost_ \--to disguise the movement of his fingers, but as soon as Daddy stopped shifting, Eggsy felt his fingers clearly, pinching him once more, lightly, at first, to build up the pleasure, tugging until Eggy was thrusting his chest up to follow. 

" _Lovely_. That's it, darling," Daddy praised while Eggsy writhed beneath him, moaning like a seasoned professional. "Why don't you open your eyes, Eggsy? Watch me play with these. They're such lovely little nubs." Eggsy's face flamed. No one had quite paid so much attention to his fucking nipples before, and Daddy knew exactly how to use them to pull his strings. "Come now, lovely boy," said Daddy. And dear fucking god, alright.

Eggsy opened his eyes to find Daddy smiling at him approvingly, and that was all the incentive he needed to drop his eyes down to his chest to see his nipples pulled taut. The burn on his cheeks grew more pronounced, but his cock also jumped, so maybe Daddy knew what he was talking about. 

He watched as Daddy released both nubs before drawing circles juuuust above the very tips where he couldn't actually feel anything, but his cock throbbed madly in response anyway. He lifted his chest the tiniest bit so that Daddy's fingers touched him

Daddy chuckled and allowed the action, in turn, pressing down on his chest and drawing circles deep into the muscles beneath instead. Eggsy moaned an appreciative sound, pushing forward to meet Daddy's hands. "Such pretty little things, I could spend all day with my mouth on them," he murmured.

"Haven't 'ad one in yer mouth since you started," Eggsy complained, but he wasn't too indignant about it, mostly because Daddy had started stroking them tenderly. In response, Daddy suddenly leaned over and licked them both, quickly and one after another before Eggsy even had time to react to the first. Not to mention his cock that stabbed into Eggsy as he leaned over and promptly shut down his mental processes.

"Better?" he asked while Eggsy scrabbled for his bearings.

"Fucker," Eggsy answered in a moan as the cool air stiffened them more. Daddy laughed again.

"You are delightful, my boy," he praised. "Dear lord, if you were mine, the _things_ I would do to you."

"Yeah?" Eggsy asked, challenging him, but also genuinely curious, "Like what?"

Daddy's eyes flashed as his amused smile curled into a lascivious one. "For one, I'd have these--" He plucked the nubs still held between his hands, and Eggsy moaned. "--pierced. Golden little hoops that I can hang weights off of, where I can thread some chain to lead you around by or bound your hands to. Tonight is nothing compared to what I'll do to them if you were mine." Eggsy squirmed in Daddy's lap, desperate for movement inside him. Every one of his breaths had turned into tiny, pleading little moans. 

Daddy rocked into him, minute shifting movements that only teased. "I already told you I'd keep you plugged. I'd fuck you in the morning and plug you up afterwards. I'd make you keep my come inside you until I can fuck it out of you in the afternoon." Jesus Fucking Christ.

"Daddy, please." But at that point, Eggsy wasn't quite sure what he was asking for.

Suddenly, Daddy pinched his nipples _hard_ , and Eggsy cried out a loud shout, arching sharply off the bed and nearly dislodging Daddy had he not caught Eggsy's hip and dragged him back onto his lap. In apology, Daddy leaned over and sucked one nipple after in the other into his mouth, laving it with tender licks, and he continued to rock his cock into Eggsy, much deeper and with more intent, but still nothing that offered the satisfaction that Eggsy needed.

"Christ..." Eggsy whimpered. He thread his fingers into Daddy's hair, holding him against his chest while Daddy suckled the pain away. "Wot else?" he asked, a quiver in his voice, but he _needed_ to hear more, so Daddy sat back up and rubbed his nubs with the pads of his thumbs over and over and over again under they were hot points of pain on Eggsy's chest. 

Fuck, did Daddy still want him to come from this? Eggsy didn't know if he could.

Daddy continued, though, undeterred, "Some days, I'll take you sailing, just you and I for the weekend, somewhere nice and warm and quiet. You, my darling, will be dressed in nothing but the sun from the moment you step onto the boat until the moment you leave it. A body as beautiful as yours should never be hidden, but alas." Eggsy would have raised an eyebrow at 'sailing' because from the suit to the car to the credit card, it was obvious that Daddy was rich, but only toffs went _sailing_. Right now, though, with the cock in his arse steadily building up speed and power, he could only appreciate the imagery it brought of him laying on the deck in naught but his birthday suit, and Daddy enjoying the view. Maybe fucking him on it against the backdrop of a sunset. "Maybe when we're at home, we could institute it as a rule."

'At home' he said, and Eggsy's heart thumped madly for a beat or ten before he found the will to quell it. Though he lived at the Estates, he had no real place to call his home, and the thought so casually dropped by a man who Eggsy seemed to have a connection with sparked a bit of hope in him, but he reminded himself that while Daddy was, admittedly, a great lay, he was nothing more to Eggsy than that.

"Don't you 'ave family at 'ome? Servants? Guests? Reckon they wouldn't want to catch me wiv my bits 'angin' out an' all 'at," Eggsy pointed out before his capacity for speech evaporated entirely. He was already slurring, drunk on arousal and lust, tempered only by the thought that this was all temporary no matter what pretty promises Daddy made.

"I live alone, darling. No _servants_ to scandalize, unfortunately,” was Daddy’s answer in a tone so wry Eggsy had to laugh. “The only frequent guest we’ll be scandalizing is my VP. And that’s _only_ if he catches us mid-fuck.” Daddy contemplated that for a moment. “Possibly not even then.”

“Your VP sounds like someone I’d like ta meet,” Eggsy said and wriggled on Daddy's cock. “Sure ‘e don’t ‘ave maybe some repressed tendencies that need explorin’?” he managed to add before Daddy thrust in _hard_ and drew a loud cry instead of more words.

“I’d let you find out for yourself, but that would mean I’ll have to let someone else put their hands on you, and while I very much enjoy showing off my toys, I’m not quite as eager to share them,” was his explanation, his voice so dangerously low that Eggsy swore it pushed him to seconds away from coming. Of course, the cock pounding away in his arse didn’t help either.

“So I’m a toy y’ mean t’ show off then?” he managed to ask. _How_ was an entirely different matter.

“To everyone willing to see, darling,” Daddy promised, mouthing at Eggsy’s neck and cheek, branding his promises into Eggsy’s skin. Eggsy was about to voice his _very_ positive opinions on that, but Daddy seemed to feel as though the time for Eggsy to talk was over. 

He took Eggsy’s wrists into one hand and pinned them over his head. With his other, he grasped Eggsy’s hips to hold him still where Eggsy had started to writhe so that he could _plow_ into Eggsy’s wrecked hole. Each thrust drew cries of _uhn, uhn, uhn_ from Eggsy’s mouth and tears from his eyes and sent wave upon wave of debilitating pleasure through his body, and while he sought to reduce Eggsy to a fucking puddle, Daddy continued to say through his own grunts and groans, “I’d throw parties in your honor, Eggsy. Put you up on a plinth in the foyer and make all my peers bask in your gorgeous presence.” The exhibitionist in Eggsy roared his approval. “They’d envy me, _beg_ me to let them have you, and when I refuse, they’ll ask at least to see you like I see you now, wanton, shameless, _ruined_.”

“God, _Daddy_!” Eggsy sobbed, his cock a fucking _rock_ between his and Daddy’s bellies where it couldn’t get the friction it needed. He struggled against Daddy’s hold so that he could touch himself because Daddy didn’t seem inclined to want to do so, but that only made Daddy squeeze his wrists tighter, pain blooming from the spot, and with that, Eggsy was fucking _done_.

“Fuuuuck!” he cried out as his cock came spurting between them what scant amount it had saved after his first orgasm. It was incapacitating, numbing, that he could barely feel Daddy’s continued thrusts. Fingers pressed to his lips while the world behind his eyelids was still blindingly bright, but he opened his mouth obediently anyway to suck three fingers into his mouth and taste his own come on his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, darling, you’re perfect,” Daddy was chanting above him as his grip around Eggsy’s wrists and on his jaw grew tighter. Eggsy moaned an assent, sucking furiously in place of being able to speak around the fingers. “Gorgeous, my lovely boy. So fucking good. Want you--want--Oh God, your _mouth_ , Eggsy, Christ…!” And then Daddy stilled abruptly, tossing his head back and whining like a wounded animal as he came deep in Eggsy’s arse.

Seconds ticked by, and each one felt like a whole minute while Daddy’s cock continued to pulse in him. Daddy was slumped over him, boneless and sated, and Eggsy felt immensely proud of himself even as he too felt the same kind of euphoria.

When his arms felt strong enough to move, he traced gentle patterns over Daddy’s back and pressed kisses to what skin he could reach, and when Daddy finally stirred from his position, Eggsy grinned.

“Enjoyed yerself, Daddy?” he asked.

“Gentlemen don’t fish for compliments,” was Daddy’s immediate answer, mumbled into the skin of Eggsy’s neck he was currently peppering with kisses. Eggsy only chuckled.

“An’ wot about tonight ever gave you the idea that I wos one of those?”

“Just thought I’d put it out there,” Daddy mumbled back before finally hauling himself up. 

He stared down into Eggsy’s face for a while before stroking Eggsy’s cheek with his thumb. It was a tender move that sent butterflies flying into Eggsy’s stomach. “I did mean what I said, Eggsy. I would love to have more of this--more than this.”

And though Eggsy would have _loved_ to jump on the opportunity to make good on Daddy’s promises, he was coherent and knowledgeable enough to know that committing to such a relationship based on their first encounter would be far, far from a good idea, so instead he gave Daddy a teasing smile. “So would I, but I still aven’t decided whether or not yer a serial killer yet.”

Daddy’s answering smile was wry, if understanding. “If I were, I don’t think falling into bed with me tonight would have helped you make that decision.” Eggsy’s smile widened cheekily.

“Can’t blame me fer falling fer yer charms.”

“And my car.”

“And yer car,” Eggsy agreed with a laugh before drawing Daddy down for a long kiss. Daddy’s arms found their way around him as he returned the kiss with a passion designed to make Eggsy’s knees tremble and make him forget about his convictions. It was a _very_ good kiss, but if Eggsy was right, it wouldn’t be their last, so with that in mind, he suggested, “How about we take this one step at a time fer now and see where it takes us, yeah?”

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” Daddy asked, eager, and didn’t that make Eggsy feel all fluttery.

“Aww, but then how will you miss me?” Eggsy teased.

Daddy amended, “The day after then. In the club at eight.”

“How about I say ‘maybe’ and find out how much you _really_ want me,” was Eggsy’s answer to that. Daddy only growled and pounced on Eggsy with another and several more kisses and a muttered “brat” in between.


	2. Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Fucking Christ, I hate this fic. I have a shit ton of work to do _on my holiday_ , and I spent a least half of the time I should be working on finishing this fic so that I can put it up and forget about it, so if there are cringey bits, plot holes, that rushed final sex scene, and other sorts of shit, just close your eyes and move on. Enjoy it for the sorry excuse of porn that it is.

Eggsy was desperate.

Desperate enough to put on his best outfit--a suit he wore to his high school graduation that was a little tight in some places and a little loose in others and overall didn’t fit as well as it should--and brave the City of London in search of a job, _any_ job where he could pull in, at the very least, minimum wage and he didn’t have to sell drugs or skin to do so either. 

The City was far, _far_ out of his pay grade, but he figured, hey. What else did he have to lose? He’d start looking for employment at all the best places and work his way down, and if he managed to find a decent job in a good company along the way, well, good for him. 

But then he proceeded to spend the entire day entering and exiting buildings, leaving his pathetically lacking resume at receptions or, if he was a little luckier, with an HR staff member who he was about 70% sure would take one look at it and then throw it away, and so he started wondering why the fuck he was even trying.

This would be the last, he assured himself as he pushed open the lobby doors of the Kingsman Bank headquarters. His determination was running out, and so were the copies of his resume, neither of which were looking to come to any kind of fruition.

“Hi,” he greeted the lady at the front desk. He’d been on the receiving end of belittling and bored looks throughout the course of the day. Hers was only of cool professionalism.

“May I help you?” she asked with a sincere politeness that was a breath of fresh air in the muck of a day he’s had.

“Yeah, I was wondering if I could hand in my resume with your HR?” Eggsy asked. The first company he visited today, he completely blew it, stuttering and tripping over the South London accent he was desperately trying to hide. Three companies in, he’d gotten a little better at it, though of course, actually having to _talk_ to someone once he got past the gate is going to be a whole ‘nother matter, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there. 

“Of course,” was the receptionist’s response. “If I can get your ID please?” And when she handed him his visitor’s badge, told him, “Take the elevator to the fifth floor. You can look for Ms. Bridget.”

“Thanks,” Eggsy answered, a sigh of relief hidden in his tone. He jogged to the elevator as he put on his visitor’s badge, squeezing among the well-dressed passengers in the car, still feeling like he didn’t belong, but with a small spark of hope in his chest anyway.

He found Ms. Bridget easily enough, and she invited him to have a seat while he filled out an application form along with a few other people. Standard questions, really, but not a lot that he could fill out. 

Education? Shitty high school grades. 

Previous employer? Not fucking applicable.

Relevant skills? Parkour?

Oh, who was he kidding? He’d be lucky if they hired him to take out the trash.

He took a deep breath and put his pen down, ready to hand it in unfinished and apologize to Ms. Bridget for wasting her time.

Only, the door flew open, and suddenly, the HR department was up in arms over the arrival of a tall, imposing, bald man. Ms. Bridget was hissing orders to her colleagues who were rushing to offer the man a seat or offer him some tea and biscuits or ask him for what he needed, while another _flew_ into the next room and emerged a few moments later following a woman with a kind, wrinkled face who had in her expression none of the panic that was in the others.’

“Mr. McTavern, as lovely it is to see your very fine self in my department, what is it that I have told you time and again about coming down here?” she asked in a slow, if admonishing tone, her grandmotherly smile unwavering. “You know I don’t like it when you startle my girls and keep them from their tasks.” She turned a stern eye towards “her girls” who immediately quieted and returned to their seats.

Mr. McTavern looked unfazed. He ignored the coffee and the seat in favor of slamming a hand onto the nearest desk and making everyone--including Eggsy--jump in their seats.

“No respect!” he declared. “I get absolutely no respect from that shite, and I am this close-- _this close_ to strangling him, fucking CEO be damned!”

The old woman gestured admonishingly with her eyes to his hand still pressed to the desk. Whether or not this fazed Mr. McTavern, Eggsy wasn’t sure, but he removed his hand anyway.

“I am not his fucking secretary. I am the Chief fucking Financial Officer of this fucking bank, and I _do not_ fucking take his phone calls or set his appointments or fucking get him fucking tea! So I want someone-- _anyone_ to come with me right now and sit at that desk and be his goddamned errand boy instead of me!” Mr. McTavern whirled around to Eggsy and the other applicants, his eyes blazing. He scanned them all briefly while Eggsy looked around to see the others shrinking back from Mr. McTavern’s gaze. He supposed he should feel a little scared, too, but to be honest, Dean’s made him immune to violent, shouty outbursts, especially those that Eggsy knows can’t be followed up with a slap or a fist.

“You!” He found a finger pointing directly at his nose and flashing eyes looking directly at his face. “Come with me.” And when Mr. McTavern turned on his heel to leave the office, Eggsy heard him mutter under his breath, “You’re just about his type. Maybe he’ll actually keep you for longer than a week.”

Eggsy fumbled with his forms and things, hurriedly apologizing to and thanking Ms. Bridget and the kindly old lady, while Mr. McTavern strode briskly away, leaving him to struggle catching up. He almost had the elevator doors shut on him, which, rude, but Mr. McTavern was stewing in silent annoyance, so Eggsy let it go for now.

The buttons said they were heading to the top floor which meant for a painfully long and awkward ride where Eggsy fidgeted where he stood and Mr. McTavern ignored him completely. Briefly, he wondered if he should back out now before he signed up for something he didn’t quite understand, but apparently, he was slated to be Kingsman Bank’s CEO’s motherfucking personal secretary instead of, you know, _unemployed_ , so _fuck that_. He was gonna get a pay grade that was so far out of his range, it wasn’t even on the same _planet_.

“Here,” Mr. McTavern commanded without breaking pause. Eggsy hurried after him, taking no time to appreciate the lavishly decorated reception area. It was a good thing, too, because if he had, he would have found himself ridiculously intimidated. He did, however, nod a greeting and give a small smile to the gorgeous receptionist.

“Ain’t I staying out there wiv ‘er?” he asked Mr. McTavern.

“Ms. Langley is the receptionist for the executive offices. You will be the personal secretary of our dear, _revered_ CEO.” Mr. McTavern said it with such dripping derision that Eggsy half wondered the history behind it. 

They entered a set of double doors and emerged into a sitting room smaller than the last, but much more lavishly decorated. There were another set of double doors on the opposite side of the room and a desk that looked to be worth the same amount of money as Dean paid for their flat’s rent in a year. “You sit there,” Mr. McTavern said, pointing to it. “Drop your things. We need to have a talk with your boss,” he ordered.

“Alright,” Eggsy agreed. He put his stuff down--carefully!--on the desk, in the smallest amount of space he could lest he accidentally nick it and spend the rest of his life in indentured servitude to pay off its repair, then turned to find Mr. McTavern watching him expectantly. “Mr… uh, McTavern? Sir? Is there something I need to know about him before I go in?” he asked. “Like maybe his name?”

“Mr. Harold Alexander Hart,” Mr. McTavern answered shortly, and then made a quick ‘come, come’ gestured that should not have looked half as elegant as it did. Eggsy took a deep breath and smoothed down the front of his suit just as Mr. McTavern threw open the double doors and strode in with a growled, “Harold Alexander Hart!”

“My, my. Someone’s in a pissy mood today,” came a rich, warm voice from inside the room. It was a lovely voice, deep, but lilting and with a firm sense of command hidden in its vowels. 

Eggsy stepped into the room to see a full head of hair styled in an immaculate coif, a pair of tortoise-shell glasses, and the hint of a strong jaw bent over several documents on a massive desk that was by far more impressive than anything Eggsy had ever seen before. The full wall of windows framing it obscured a lot of the little details on Mr. Hart’s person, but the room, the tone, the _everything_ was more than enough to let Eggsy know that he was hopelessly, _hopelessly_ underqualified for the job.

“I’ve found you a new assistant,” Mr. McTavern told Mr. Hart, his tone brooking no room for argument. It was the kind of tone of voice that would have sent Rottie scurrying away with his tail between his legs, but Mr. Hart didn’t seem fazed in the least. His eyes held true to his document, his frame calm and still. “You're to keep him on for one month _minimum_ , and if I hear you’ve sacked him in less than that without my express approval, I will _personally_ cut you off from every _penny_ this company owes you until he’s replaced, _do we understand each other_?”

“That’s funny, Merlin,” Mr. Hart said, signing the document with a flourish. “Because I quite clearly remember, and do correct me if I was wrong, I was _your_ \--” He finally looked up.

And then stopped.

And so did Eggsy’s heart because staring at him, jaw agape and just as bewildered as he, wasn’t Harold Alexander Hart, CEO of Kingsman Bank and one of the most powerful men in Britain. Staring at him was--

“--boss.”

Mr. McTavern looked between the both of them, a little confused at the pregnant silence and on the verge of asking. Ultimately, though, he seemed to decide that it was _not his problem_ , so he said instead, “Well, I’ll leave you two to do your own damn introductions yourself because despite what you seem to think, Hart, I do not _actually_ have the fucking time to coddle you.” 

At the door, he turned to Mr. Hart and reminded him firmly, “One month, Harry.” The door was shut, and the room was once more plunged into a tense silence.

Mr. Hart slowly rose to his feet, his eyes still wide and unblinking, mirroring what Eggsy could only imagine was the same expression on his face because of all the fucking luck in the world, fate deemed it necessary to stumble him into the office of the best random shag he’s had _ever_. Period. Who was also apparently the CEO of a major international banking corporation because his life couldn’t get Fifty Shades enough.

“Well, fuck me,” Eggsy decided in a breathy whisper, and to that Mr. Hart’s eyes narrowed and amusement quirked the corners of his lips. 

“Hello, Eggsy,” he greeted. That his voice was pitched even lower now did wonderful things to Eggsy’s insides, especially when flashes of last night’s activities came into the forefront of his mind. “And here I thought you’ve decided not to see me today.”

Eggsy scowled. “It ain’t like I knew you worked ‘ere,” he said petulantly. “Or that Mr. McTavern wos gonna pick me to be yer secretary. I wos only expectin’ a mailroom job at best, t’ be honest.” He tucked both of his hands in his front pockets, feeling a little defensive and maybe a lot insecure. He looked around the room to avoid Mr. Hart’s gaze. 

“Is that so?” Mr. Hart asked after a moment’s pause. It was said in a tone so light that Eggsy _had_ to look at him to decipher what it meant. He found Mr. Hart watching him with an even expression, nothing to give Eggsy any idea of what he was thinking. In the same light tone, he asked, “Would you prefer that I have you transferred to the mailroom instead?”

Eggsy bit his lip, considering this. On the one hand, it was less likely to end in his termination from inevitable incompetence. The mailroom he could probably handle. The professional life of the head of a Fortune 500 company? Not as much. But on the other hand… well. Daddy was _right there_.

“If…” he started to ask. “If I accept…” Mr. Hart said nothing to hurry him along, watching him with an almost professional detachment. “What would that mean exactly?”

There was… something that shifted in Mr. Hart that Eggsy couldn’t quite put his finger on. He hadn’t moved a muscle, hadn’t batted an eyelid, and yet there was a change in his demeanour, in the air around him. Something that shifted from casual indifference to something… intense.

“What it will mean, Eggsy, is that you will field my calls. It means you will manage my calendar and arrange my appointments. You will review documents for my signature and filter out the superfluous and incorrect before they reach my table. You will pick up my dry cleaning and visit my tailor. You will make sure my office is clean and stocked. You will get me coffee, lunch, and the occasional glass of scotch,” was Mr. Hart’s perfunctory answer, but when he spoke next, there was the satisfaction of a smirk in his tone. “It may also mean that, given our… history, I will, on occasion, lay you out over my desk and spend a good portion of our time with your legs spread and my tongue up your arse.”

“ _Jesus wept_ ,” Eggsy hissed under his breath, his cock jumping in remembrance of how exactly _that_ felt.

Oh, Mr. Hart was definitely smirking now. 

“It means I plan to make sure I meet every promise I made you last night, every expectation you have of me and so much more. It means--” And here, a more serious note entered his tone. “--that there will be an unavoidable power imbalance between us as I will be your superior, and I _will_ abuse that authority, Eggsy, in the context of our…” He pursed his lips in search of the correct term. “Engagement,” was what he settled on. “What it does _not_ mean, however, is that your employment rests on your willingness to engage. It does not mean that you are obligated to agree to any and everything I say. It does not mean you cannot say no.”

“I know you ain’t gonna take advantage of me,” Eggsy scoffed. Mr. Hart didn’t have that rapey vibe like many of Eggsy’s ilk did. He knew the signs to look out for. He knew what kind of person to avoid. Mr. Hart bore none of those characteristics.

Mr. Hart tilted his head. “Do you?” His expression was expectant, challenging almost. “And what if I were to tell you that if you refuse me, you will be terminated?” 

And yeah, okay. When he put it that way. 

“By the very nature of our relationship, I will always be taking advantage of you. The threat of your termination, of the loss of your livelihood will always hang over us and will put into question your consent,” Mr. Hart explained. “And I do not delight in it. I do not desire a partner who I am not confident is willing, and your coming here, your very presence in my office and the fact that I am speaking with you about your employment sheds doubt on your willingness.”

“You’re sending me mixed signals here, Mr. Hart,” Eggsy pointed out.

“But, Eggsy, I want you,” Mr. Hart concluded as though Eggsy had said nothing. His voice held absolute assurance that maybe made Eggsy a little weak in the knees. “So allow me to try to mitigate the circumstances.”

“Alright?” Eggsy prompted.

“We will draw up a contract as my personal addendum to your terms of employment at Kingsman. If you leave the company--whether of your own volition or any decision on the part of myself or the company--for any reason whatsoever, you will be entitled to receive, in addition to whatever you are entitled to receive from the company, a severance compensation of one and a half times your annual salary plus a prorated amount for the number of years you have served the company beyond one year. It will also be my obligation to assist you in finding acceptable employment in a position and company of equal or higher caliber than your position at time of separation in Kingsman. If you wish to terminate our engagement without leaving the company, you may choose any equivalent position in any department to transfer to, and you will still be entitled to my proposed severance upon your resignation.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Eggsy swore low under his breath, a little stunned. “I don’t even know how much I’m going t’ be making, and I already know that that’s far too much.”

“My last assistant received sixty thousand pounds,” Mr. Hart answered with no hesitation, and Eggsy had a minor stroke.

“That’s…” Eggsy stuttered. “How can I possibly say no to that?”

Mr. Hart’s mouth twisted into a small grimace. “You can choose choose to take me up on my obligation to find you an equivalent position in an equivalent company and avoid this altogether.”

“But we don’t have a contract yet. You’ve no obligation,” Eggsy answered.

“You’ve already been hired by Merlin under my station. The absences of a document does not mean the contract is not in place. My word is as good as any document I’ve signed; it’s only up to you to enforce it,” Mr. Hart told him, and Eggsy believed him. He _shouldn’t_ , but he did.

“It’s too much for receiving nothing at all in return,” Eggsy tried again, trying to make sense of the offer, to make sense of Mr. Hart.

Mr. Hart shook his head. “Your explicit consent--or as close to it as I can possibly get in these circumstances--are well worth it.” And then more gently, he added, “And if it’s any consolation, it’s not even a drop in the bucket, I promise you. This in no way inconveniences me or the company, and so you shouldn’t feel any guilt toward accepting it.” He stopped and thought about it. “Well, Merlin will have my head, but I can handle him,” he finished with a reassuring smile.

And dear Lord, he could walk out of here right now, ninety thousand pounds richer with a promise of a fantastic job anywhere he wants _and_ with a continued relationship with Mr. Hart if he so chose because nowhere did Mr. Hart mention that accepting the separation pay meant terminating their potential relationship, only his employment at Kingsman. 

Or he could stay and possibly have something even better.

“Alright,” he said.

“‘Alright,’ what?” Mr. Hart clarified, but he was already moving closer, slowed not by hesitation, but with the gait and grace of a stalking tiger, and like prey, Eggsy was frozen in, well, not in fear, but in anticipation. Mr. Hart stopped in front of him, close enough that Eggsy had to tilt his head back, back, back to look into his hungry gaze. Close enough that he could smell the same woody aftershave he wore last night.

Eggsy grinned up at him. “Alright, I’m all yours, Mr. Hart.”

Mr. Hart’s hand came up to cup his jaw and stroke his cheek with his thumb, while his other hand grasped Eggsy’s waist to pull him closer and line their bodies together. “You only need to call me ‘Mr. Hart’ in the company of others. ‘Harry’ otherwise or in the company of friends. But when I have you like this, darling,” Mr. Hart-- _Harry’s_ voice dropped a pitch, “you know what to call me.”

Eggsy batted his eyelashes and teased, “Do I, Mr. Hart?” 

And so Harry gave him a smile that was all teeth and promise and answered, “You’re not too big to be put over my knee, darling, and make you cry.”

“Promises, promises, daddy,” Eggsy said just before Harry dipped his head to kiss him.

And _oh_ how lovely.

Harry tasted of Earl Grey and lemon and something else more addicting that Eggsy _had_ to chase after with his tongue. Harry let him explore the cavern of his mouth, let him trace his teeth, and stroke his tongue while Harry’s hands did the same to his body, exploring, tracing, stroking. 

Eggsy had been at half mast since the start of their conversation, but he was _well_ beyond that now, and with Harry pressed right up against his front, his own hard cock digging into Eggsy’s hip, he was impatient as well.

He reached for Harry’s belt and undid it with practiced ease, encountering no resistance from Harry who moaned his assent into Eggsy’s mouth. Eggsy fumbled with the hook and zipper of his trousers, made only slightly difficult by Harry thrusting against him, before he finally took hold of Harry’s cock through his briefs.

Harry made a broken sound at the back of his throat, and suddenly, he stopped being a passive participant and _devoured_ Eggsy. A hand tightened near painfully in Eggsy’s hair to press his face even closer to Harry’s, his lips bruising from the kiss. His head was tipped even further back that he was practically thrown off balance if not for Harry holding onto him so damn tight he could barely move. His hands were pinned between his pelvis and Harry’s grinding cock, useless for anything else but something for Harry to rut against, and Christ-- _Christ_ he wanted Harry in his mouth.

He did his best to push Harry back which actually resulted in Harry jumping much further than Eggsy wanted him to, so Eggsy reeled him back in by the lapels of his jacket, purring, “Shh, shh, no. I just wanna suck you. May I, daddy?” 

There was palpable relief in Harry’s voice when he answered, “Yes, yes, of course. Of course, darling, you needn’t even have asked.”

And when Eggsy further demurred, “And will you do me hard, daddy? Will you fuck my mouth? Please?” Harry’s eyes darkened.

“God, yes, you wonderful, wonderful boy,” he praised as he helped Eggsy to his knees. And because Eggsy was a little shit, he sat back on his heels and opened his mouth and kept his hands to himself, a picture of obedient patience as he waited for Harry to put his cock in, so maybe he deserved it when Harry thrust himself in with little preamble all the way to the back of his throat.

He coughed on it, gagged a little, but his body was shaking in delighted laughter anyway while Harry grabbed his hair and fucked his face, snarling, “Fucking brat of a boy.” It was _wonderful_ was what it was, watching Daddy’s fierce expression and blazing eyes while feeling the rapid slide of skin against his tongue.

“Hold onto my legs. Pinch or tap if you need me to stop,” Harry ordered through gritted teeth.

Eggsy’s hands curled around Harry’s calves, more for stability than because Harry told him to, truth be told, holding on for dear life while Harry took advantage of his mouth with little care for anything beyond the pleasure of it. The doors remained unlocked, involuntary tears pooled at the corners of Eggsy’s eyes, aborted gagging sounds came from the boy’s mouth, and Harry ignored them all.

Eggsy’s cock was hard beyond belief between his legs, straining and jumping against his ill-fitting pants, but he could barely pay it any mind when his entire consciousness was being taken up by the fat cock ferociously jabbing his uvula. He sucked when he could, slurped back the saliva dripping from his lips when Harry’s cock allowed enough space for air, forewent a gasp of breath in favor of surging forward to get the retreating organ back in his mouth, but otherwise could do little else but _take it_.

And when the front of his shirt was a mess from the spit he couldn’t contain and he was inches away from passing out from foregone oxygen, Harry tilted Eggsy’s head back and pushed deep, deep, deep into his mouth, the head of his cock squeezing past his tonsils to wedge in his throat where Eggsy could feel it spending itself without regard to Eggsy’s comfort.

Harry was a bit more mindful than his cock, though, pulling out quickly when Eggsy started to cough on the come he couldn’t swallow properly. He had been barely halfway through his orgasm when he did, so he finished with his fist and decorated Eggsy’s cheeks and lips with the remaining droplets.

Eggsy figured he must have been a sight--eyes bright and wet, mouth bruised and glittering with come and spit--because for a long moment, Harry, with his cock still in hand, was frozen in his blatant admiration for the boy on his knees. His eyes flickered here and there, taking in the minute details on Eggsy’s person, and Eggsy held completely still for him, allowing him to take his fill.

And then in the next moment, Harry was on his knees as well in front of Eggsy and his lips on his. His tongue was thrusting deep into Eggsy’s mouth as though he was trying to taste the come he’d unloaded down Eggsy’s throat, and Eggsy was deliriously, _mind-shatteringly_ hard.

“Daddy,” he tried to whine against Harry’s mouth. It came out as mostly a series of throat sounds and moans, but Harry seemed to understand.

Without pulling apart, he managed to stand them both gracefully and tuck himself back into his trousers. He did a cursory check of Eggsy with his hands, which Eggsy really thought was simply an excuse to feel him up because Harry ended said check with a hand on Eggsy’s cock and a grin on his lips.

“Oh, darling, I am so going to have very much fun with you,” he murmured while giving Eggsy a firm stroke and a squeeze, and then with his other hand, patted Eggsy’s bottom and stepped back. “Go lock the door then come sit in Daddy’s lap,” he ordered, to which Eggsy hastened to comply because _yes_.

It was a bit of a walk to the door and back, especially with a stiffy between his legs, but he managed to hobble over to Harry behind his desk in record time. He slid onto Harry’s lap, facing him as instructed, while Harry wiped at the come on his chin and fed it to him.

“You look positively _ravaged_ , my darling,” he observed. “It’s such a lovely look on you. Maybe I should endeavour to keep you as such at all times?”

“I don’t think it’ll do you any favors to have an assistant who’s always covered in your jizz.” Eggsy was proud of how even his voice came out, considering Harry was opening up his jacket and smoothing his hands up his sides. They stopped just under his armpits so that his thumbs could brush over his nipples and yeah, Eggsy remembered Daddy had a _thing_ for them.

“On the contrary. I think I’d be quite the envy of my colleagues,” Harry said, almost absently with how intently he was focused on his damn nipples. “How do they feel?” 

“They’re fine,” Eggsy answered, but he was gritting his teeth to resist batting Harry’s hands away. They were still a little sore, actually.

“Hmm,” Harry hummed and leaned over to reach for something on the desk behind Eggsy. He distracted Eggsy with a dirty kiss before sitting back to reveal a pair of scissors.

“Uh, Daddy…” Eggsy’s eyes were wide with confusion and a bit of alarm.

“Shush,” Harry said, but didn’t elaborate. Instead, before Eggsy could fully realize what he intended to do, he tugged at the shirt above Eggsy’s right nipple and cut through the cloth.

“Oi! Wot the fuck?!” Eggsy shrieked, jerking away from Harry and jumping out of his lap before he could finish. He tugged at his shirt to inspect the damage, making affronted noises about it.

“Come here, darling,” Harry said with laughter in his voice. He caught him by the waist and pulled him back onto his lap, soothing him with a kiss and a firm grope. Then he batted Eggsy’s hands away so that he could cut it properly, leaving a large oval that revealed his nipple underneath.

“You fucking freak,” Eggsy swore as he watched Harry cut out the other side as well. Expressing outrage over it was much easier than acknowledging his embarrassment about his fucking nipples being framed so obscenely. “This was my only dress shirt, you wanker,” he whined. He pretended to fidget with the shorn edges in an attempt to cover his chest up, but Harry took his wrists and moved them behind his back. 

“While I do not doubt that, darling, it is in desperate need of a shredder, and so I am only doing you a favor. I shall simply have to buy you others,” was Harry’s answer, but his eyes were on Eggsy’s chest as he spoke. They flickered up briefly to Eggsy’s, and his smirk told Eggsy that his face was violently red, but he held his ground and feigned indignance to hide his embarrassment.

And then Harry ducked his head to mouth at one of his nipples, and the embarrassment and annoyance in him fled in favor of _want_.

“I hate you,” Eggsy whined, but he moved into the heat of Harry’s mouth, to the flicker of tongue over the sensitive, pebbled nub. Harry took it gently between his teeth, tugging at it, and teasing the bit in his mouth. It was all the right kinds of lascivious, and Eggsy moaned for more.

When it was properly moistened and stimulated, Harry let it be to give the other the same treatment to the same effect, and when he was satisfied, leaned back to admire his handiwork. Eggsy wanted to wipe the smug smile on his face with a kiss, or maybe his cock, but he only held still for Daddy's eyes.

“You are a vision,” Harry murmured reverently. “The very picture of debauchery.”

“An' you, Daddy, are a pervert,” Eggsy replied sweetly. Harry chuckled, bright and warm, and leaned forward to kiss him.

“We’ve already established that,” he said. He reclined once more, though instead of merely staring, he did extend a fingertip to tease Eggsy’s nipple. Eggsy let him, enduring it by squirming slightly. “Can you come--”

“No,” Eggsy said flatly. “You want me to come, you suck my cock.” This time, Harry’s laugh was shocked and delighted, and when he snogged Eggsy, it was done with such filth and passion that it promptly sent him to kingdom come.

“I adore you, darling boy,” Harry murmured into the skin beneath Eggsy’s ear. The words sent molten lava slithering down Eggsy’s spine and pooling in his cock. He whined and squirmed to alleviate some of his arousal, and begged to have Harry alleviate the rest.

“Daddy, _please_ ,” he pleaded. “Please. I’ve been good for you, haven’t I?”

“The very best,” Harry assured him.

“Then let me come, Daddy, please,” Eggsy repeated. 

“Shhh… Of course I will, darling, be patient for me,” Harry murmured as his lips trailed a path down the length of Eggsy’s neck. He tipped Eggsy’s chin up to tilt his head back for better access, and his lips and teeth mapped lines of fire along the length.

Eggsy moaned. Daddy was _wonderful_. Playful and hot and firm in equal measures, and God, Eggsy was coming to adore him too.

Harry’s mouth once more found the skin beneath his ear, and so he kissed it and licked it and then told Eggsy, “Be a good boy for Daddy and straighten yourself up in the bathroom, Eggsy.”

Eggsy blinked. “Wot?”

And once again, a self-satisfied smirk covered Harry’s face. “It’s your first day, darling. And now that we’ve discussed your duties and responsibilities, it’s time for the building tour,” he said.

Eggsy blinked at him, looked down at his shirt, then narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Yer serious?” he asked, not in a ‘can you repeat that?’ way. Not even an ‘are you sure?’ way, but more a ‘you better _not_ be serious’ way. So Harry pushed him off of his lap.

“Perfectly,” he said, standing and brushing himself off. Satisfied with his own appearance, he reeled Eggsy in and did up the buttons of his coat, adjusting it here and there so that it covered (barely) the damage he did to it. Eggsy’d have to walk around like a fucking stick had been shoved up his arse, else if he shifted wrong, someone’s gonna notice.

“Is this part of that thing you said ‘bout wanting to show me off?” he asked.

Harry sidestepped it by telling him, in quite a lascivious tone of voice, “I intend to have you come on my cock and nothing else, but I’m not quite… up for it just yet.” Then he nudged Eggsy in the direction of a small door off to the side of the main entrance. “You’ve got come on your cheek.”

“Yer a wanker,” Eggsy grumbled, but headed into the bathroom anyway where he caught sight of how fucking _ruined_ he looked, _Christ_. 

Harry stood behind him as he splashed water on his face and scrubbed the mess off with soap. He handed Eggsy a towel to wipe himself with and a brush for his hair, a bit of pomade, too, though they refrained from sharing aftershave.

Harry straightened up his suit once more, grinning when he caught a peek of the cut outs, so Eggsy leveled him a baleful look. “Perv,” he muttered while he did a couple of poses to make sure he wasn’t going to flash anyone his tits.

“Ready, darling?”

“I’d’ve been fine if you hadn’t mutilated my shirt,” Eggsy said, but he followed Harry out of the office anyway.

What followed next was probably one of the most stressful hours of Eggsy’s life.

They stopped first at Merlin’s office for Harry to rub in his face that, hey look, we’re coming off to a good start. The CFO only narrowed his eyes at them--at Harry mostly because the git had on his face a fucking suspicious smile the entire time that Eggsy almost jabbed him with his elbow for, but he was still playing the demure new assistant, so no jabbing.

They rounded the rest of the executive offices, many of which were empty for one reason or another, but Eggsy was introduced to their secretaries, which was the important thing, and they, too, looked at Harry with suspicion and/or confusion

“Why’ve I got the feeling you don’t do this for all yer new secretaries?” Eggsy hissed at Harry.

“Because I don’t,” was Harry’s cheerful answer as he opened the door to the Technology department for Eggsy.

“No! Stop opening the bloody door, I’m the assistant, I should be opening the doors. _Christ_ , Harry,” Eggsy hissed. Harry only smiled and gestured him through.

They were greeted with a mixture of confusion, glee, and awe which Eggsy deduced was all aimed at Harry.

“Mr. Hart? I, uh… How can I help?” asked one brave soul whose cubicle was unfortunately near the door. 

Harry gave him an enigmatic smile. “Hello. I was looking for Amelia’s office,” he said. The man wordlessly gestured further into the office, and so Harry took his directions and they found themselves in front of a door bearing the plaque “Amelia Baines, Director.”

He gave two knocks and then pushed the door without preamble for Eggsy to see two women taking tea from opposite sides of the desk. The one with the jet black hair, who Eggsy presumed to be Amelia because she sat on the correct side of the desk, blinked.

“Harry? What on Earth are you doing here?”

“Hello, my dear,” Harry only told her. To the other woman, he exclaimed, “Roxanne! How delightful to see you.”

Roxanne rolled her eyes. “I was here yesterday, Harry. And the day before that. Oh, and the one before that, too. And hey, what do you know? I’m here almost everyday, you needn’t act so surprised.”

“Ah yes, but bringing your brother his lunch and flirting with our dear Amelia hardly constitutes ‘being here’ now does it?” Harry ignored Amelia's bright blush and Roxanne’s glare, continuing with, “Now, if you accepted my job offer…”

“I am not working with Merlin until he asks for it himself,” Roxanne answered shortly, an old argument, it seemed. “Or else he’s going to start bitching about how I’m ‘changing everything’ and ‘ruining his system.’” There were actual air quotes. “Besides, I’m very happy finishing up my thesis. You can wait until after I’ve gotten my Master's before bribing me with an exorbitant salary and a corner office, and are you going to introduce that gentleman behind you and explain why you’ve taken a sudden interest in foraying beyond the penthouse or are we going to go through the motions a little bit more?”

Eggsy shifted when the attentions of all three turned to him. He gave both women a hesitant smile while waiting for Harry to introduce him.

“This is my new assistant, Eggs...y,” Harry said. His smile faltered a bit as his tone wavered towards the end, and it took Eggsy a little bit to realize that, fuck, Harry didn’t know his last name. He almost laughed. As it was, he was struggling to keep his lips just wide enough for a polite smile because, _fucking hell_ , he’d choked on Harry’s dick in his office before the man had even gotten his proper name.

“Unwin. Eggsy Unwin, pleased t’ meet you,” he supplied, moving closer-- _carefully_ \--to shake their hands. They both leaned around him to lift their eyebrows at Harry, though for what, Eggsy didn’t understand. His accent maybe?

Harry shrugged. “Merlin picked him out.” Eyebrows did not settle, but Harry continued anyway. “Amelia is, of course, the Director of Information Security, and because Roxanne as of yet cannot be bribed to take the position of Director of Country Finance, let me introduce her as my previous personal secretary.”

“It bears pointing out that you’ve had several after me,” Roxy said. “In fact, Merlin calls me up often enough to whinge about how you’ve chucked another one, as if that’ll convince me to come back.”

To Eggsy, Harry explained, “Through no fault of my own. She decided that her studies were far more important than our dear institution.” Eggsy lifted his eyebrows in question, which took Harry a moment to understand. “Oh, the others. Well, they weren’t Kingsman material,” was the all the explanation he gave.

“And yet Mr. Unwin is, fancy that,” Amelia put in, though her tone only bore that of playful teasing, so Eggsy returned her grin and told them, “It’s great t’ meet ya, Miss Amelia, Miss Roxanne.”

“It’s just Roxy, please,” Roxanne corrected. “ _Harold_ only gets away with calling me ‘Roxanne’ because he’s an arse and plays the boss card when he’s called out on it.” In a loud whisper, she added, “And no one has the heart to disabuse the dear _old_ man of the notion that it doesn’t actually work.”

Eggsy threw a glance in Harry’s direction, snickering a bit, but Harry hardly looked offended, only amused by the whole exchange.

“So you got any tips?” Eggsy asked Roxy.

Roxy’s grin made it clear that her next words were going to be very painful for Harry and painfully hilarious for Eggsy. “Don’t bother with the tea. Just booze him up, and he’ll be fine for the day. He says it’s because he ‘appreciates the flavour of a fine scotch,’--” More air quotes. “--but I once secretly gave him a fingerful of Jack Daniels, and he couldn’t tell the difference.” 

Harry made an affronted face, fake as all hell, but funny nonetheless. “I most certainly _did_ notice, thank you very much, but as I had just finished dealing with the Chair of the Board of Directors, I simply did not care a bloody ounce as long as it was at _least_ 70 proof.”

Roxy laughed, light and lilting, and _bloody hell_ was she gorgeous--funny and smart and accomplished, too. How the fuck was Eggsy supposed to match up to _that_?

“Here, let me give you my number, and if there’s anything else that you need help with, just shoot me a text,” she offered, gesturing for his phone. And god, she was super nice, too?

“Yeah, thanks, Miss Roxy,” Eggsy said.

“Just ‘Roxy’ is fine,” Roxy corrected as she put in her number with a smiley emoji in her name. “There you go.”

“Fanks,” Eggsy muttered once more, troubled under the guise of fiddling with his phone.

“Well,” Harry cut in brightly. “Now that that’s sorted, why don’t Eggsy and I head on back upstairs and see to getting some work done. We’ll see you ladies later.”

“Bye, Harry,” they called out in unison as Harry gestured Eggsy through the door.

Eggsy didn’t ask why they weren’t going through the rest of the building anymore. Instead, in the silence of the elevator ride up to the penthouse--which was mostly affected by the presence of other people somewhat intimidated by sharing the cab with the CEO of the bank--he mulled over how utterly underqualified he was for this job and how incompetent he was going to be at it.

As soon as the elevator doors shut behind the last person to step off, Harry said quietly, “I never slept with her, if that’s what you’re wondering.” 

Eggsy glanced up at the cameras, wondering if they picked up sound as well, before answering in a volume that mimicked Harry’s just in case, “I wasn’t really, but thanks for that, I guess?”

Harry turned to him. “Then how can I help?”

“I just--” The doors opened before Eggsy could finish, so Harry hurried them through the lobby and into his office where he locked the door behind Eggsy and pulled him up against himself.

“Darling,” he said in a _really_ fucking earnest tone. “How can I help?”

“God, Harry. I’m going to be fucking shit at this,” Eggsy wailed. He hid his face in Harry’s shoulder and clenched his hands into fists. “I ain’t qualified to even _be_ in this building, much less run your day!”

“Eggsy--”

“I _barely_ finished high school, Harry. I shouldn’t’a graduated at all ‘cept my headmaster din’t want to see my mug about anymore. I’ve been mostly bummin' about since ‘cept fer a few part-time jobs that I was sacked from.” He didn’t mention that he’d been fired because they found out he was dealing on the side for Dean. He didn’t know how well that would go over, regardless that he’d been forced to do it under duress. “I’ve not got a lick of qualification that Miss Roxy has. I only got picked because Mr. McTavern said I was yer type!”

“Darling, hush, please,” Harry soothed. “I really don’t care about all that. Despite what you may have been led to think, I am not _actually_ an invalid or a layabout. I _can_ do my own work without the assistance of a secretary. At best, while we’re getting you up to speed, I may only need you to run errands and set up meetings for me, but darling, I have the full confidence that you’ll manage just fine.”

“How? _How_ do you have that confidence?” Eggsy challenged.

Harry pursed his lips. “Not to sound insulting, Eggsy, but it’s not rocket science.”

“Yeah, I get that, but there’s a reason people like you only get people like Miss Roxy to ‘run yer fuckin’ errands.’ You know, the best o’ the best, cream o’ the crop, an’ all that. Yer entire basis for your confidence in me is how well I sucked yer fuckin’ cock. You’ve only known me fer one night!” Eggsy argued. 

“Alright,” Harry conceded. “So I may be a little biased--”

“Yer a right fuckin’ idiot, and I am in over my head!”

Harry slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. “You are overreacting,” he told him. Eggsy tried to yell some more, but the hand was firmly in place and he was trying not to think of how that turned him on. “I agree that this isn’t an ideal situation and maybe I might not have picked your CV out of a line up, at least not without a picture,” he tried to tease, but Eggsy only glared. “However, you’re here now, and I’m willing to give you the chance. I’m willing to help you _be_ fit for the position by getting you the training you need, giving you _hands on_ guidance.”

Eggsy managed to shake his hand off to admonish him with a “ _Harry_ ,” but the thudding panic in Eggsy’s chest slowed anyway. Harry chuckled and kissed his forehead as Eggsy asked, “And if it doesn’t work out? If you think I’m only as good as my arse is?”

“Then you invoke your severance clause, and we take this out of the office and back into the bedroom,” Harry shrugged. “It’s a bit of naughty fun, darling; the bank isn’t going to implode if you don’t do as well as Roxy did as my personal secretary. Think of it as a very realistic roleplay. And look on the bright side--” Eggsy narrowed his eyes at his gleeful grin. “--if you do cock up, I get to punish you for it.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Kinky fuck,” he muttered, but it was fondly meant, and when Harry smiled broadly, he returned it with a smaller one and let the older man kiss him with deep and meaningful intent, returning it as best as he was able.

“Feeling better?” Harry murmured when they parted.

“Hardly,” Eggsy scoffed. “I remember you promisin’ a while ago that you were gonna let me come on your cock.”

Harry chuckled once more. “That I did,” he agreed. “Why don’t you grab the tube of Sylk and a condom out of the bathroom and join me over by the desk.” He nudged Eggsy in the correct direction.

“Bossy, bossy,” Eggsy returned, but went anyway, finding the lubricant in one of the cabinets. It was a proper bathroom: shower, walk-in closets, the works. Pretty convenient, Eggsy decided, thankful that he managed to take up with the CEO and not some middle manager down in personal loans if only for the ease of clean up after an office quickie.

He found Harry behind his desk as promised, crouched over some documents that Eggsy wondered if he was interrupting, but when Harry looked up with a brilliant smile, he forgot the documents for now and slunk his way into Harry’s arms for a kiss or three.

“How’re we doing this?” Eggsy asked. The desk might be off limits, heaped as it was with paperwork-- _Christ_ , he was gonna have the devil of a time figuring them out--but Harry seems to have already decided because he was already ridding Eggsy of his coat, taking a bit of time to remind Eggsy of the state of his shirt, and, soon after, his trousers and pants.

“Here,” he murmured, turning Eggsy by the hips and walking him forward and-- _oh_ \--pressing him up against the wall of windows behind his desk.

“Fuck,” Eggsy moaned under his breath. Harry’s laugh was a little dark, a little wet with arousal. His breath fanned over the back of Eggsy’s neck where he nuzzled his nose and pressed soft little kisses. 

There was nothing in front of them for miles but the labyrinth of smaller buildings that was the City of London beneath them, no one to see Eggsy pinned chest-first against Harry’s windows while the other man pressed a single slicked digit into him and whispered filthy things in his ear, but it meant little to make Eggsy feel less exposed than he actually was. 

Every brush of the hem of his shirt was torture on his cock, every slide of Harry’s finger debilitating, but neither was enough to sate the thrumming hunger in him nor to keep him from begging, “Daddy.”

“Yes, darling,” Harry answered and pushed a second finger up to the knuckle in one quick slide.

“Ah!” Eggsy cried out, his cock jumping in protest of the suddenness then throbbing in approval after.

Harry kicked open Eggsy’s legs and spread his fingers apart to loosen Eggsy up for him. “Better?” he asked. He deliberately avoided Eggsy’s prostate, for which Eggsy was grateful because one good stroke to it and Eggsy was done for.

“Not yet,” Eggsy moaned. “One more, an’ then you, Daddy. Don’t tease, please.”

“No,” Harry agreed. “Not today, sweet boy. I will, though, one of these days.” His fingers disappeared, but Eggsy knew well enough not to whine because Daddy was sure to be wrapping and slicking himself up for Eggsy. “I’ll spend the whole day teasing you, bringing you up to the brink of orgasm and leaving you there...” 

And then there was a push against his opening, the blunt head of Harry’s cock forcing its way past the tight ring of muscle, and Eggsy found that he didn’t have the mental capacity to affirm or reject Harry’s proposal. 

“..It’s going to be on one of those miserable days when I have one meeting after another, the tedious ones where I’d rather jump out the window than willingly attend...” 

The cock pushed into him in a long, slow slide, neither rushing nor deliberately teasing, almost methodical, really, but its girth split Eggsy open anyway, lighting up each of his nerve endings all the way to his toes. 

“..But if you’re there, if I can watch you squirming in your seat from the state I’ve put you in. Maybe a plug for good measure..” 

Only when Eggsy’s hole closed around the base of Harry’s cock did he let out the breath he was holding. Harry pressed closer, lining them up from ankle to hip and holding them still while murmuring, “Maybe I should make you come while Merlin’s doing his budget reports.” 

He shifted, thrusting just the tiniest bit, but enough to elicit a small ‘ah!’ from Eggsy. 

“God, how lovely would you be. Can you hide it, I wonder? Pretend you’re comprehending what Merlin's reporting while you cream your pants? Maybe I should ask you to synthesize the meeting afterwards? See if you were paying attention?”

“I can barely do that without a toy up my arse. How’d you expect me to do that after I come?” Eggsy pointed out. His breaths were coming in small gasps, more in anticipation than any sort of labored effort.

Harry chuckled. “I don’t,” he answered matter-of-factly. “I expect you to fail. I aim for it because after they’ve left, it means I can strip you out of your pants and make you suck the come out of them while I warm your arse with my hand.”

“ _God!_ ” Eggsy gasped, grinding down onto Harry’s cock. “Fucking _fuck me_ already, Daddy. Christ almighty, _please_!”

Harry only hummed agreement, and then dear lord did Harry _give it_ to him.

He pushed Eggsy forward, plastering him up against the glass and pinning him there with a hand between his shoulder blades while his other hand dragged Eggsy’s hips back. His cock withdrew briefly only so that he could slide it again into Eggsy’s body and make him moan.

“Again,” Eggsy demanded, breathless when he shouldn’t have been. Harry complied wordlessly. The pull of his cock against the walls of Eggsy’s hole made him hiss and clench around it which in turn made Harry groan and thrust just _this_ shade of harder. 

“More,” Eggsy demanded once more, starting the cycle again, over and over until Harry’s grip on his hips was bruising and the thrusts of his cock punishing. They ripped unapologetically through Eggsy’s loosened hole, jabbing his prostate with each thrust and earning Harry cries of pleasure that Eggsy didn’t-- _couldn’t_ bother to muffle.

“ _Please_ ,” Eggsy begged because he was _so close_.

“Yes, Eggsy,” Harry agreed absently. "Anything, darling." The slaps of skin against skin were interspersed with Harry’s grunts of effort and Eggsy’s cries of pleasure. His orgasm started in the pit of his belly, building up with each jab to his prostate, but held there by lack of stimulation to his cock.

“N--nearly--” he sobbed into the pane of glass, he was _so fucking close_.

And then Harry tugged him back away from the glass to make space for his hand and _pinched_ Eggsy’s right nipple, and Eggsy was _gone_.

He shouted his orgasm into the cavern of the room, loud and uninhibited as he spurted all over the clean glass and carpet beneath him, and then whimpering afterwards as it died down and Harry was still jackhammering into him, desperately chasing his own orgasm.

Harry’s thrusts grew erratic, a promising sign that came minutes too late because oversensitivity was taking over Eggsy. He clenched down on Harry’s pistoning cock to encourage him to come, whining and grinding back until Harry bit down on the base of his neck to muffle his own cry of pleasure.

“Mmm, I made a mess of yer window,” Eggsy mumbled while Harry pulled him back into his arms, nuzzling at the skin of his neck. They were still tied together, but Harry’s quickly deflating cock was going to change that soon.

“Couldn’t fucking care less,” Harry mumbled back. Eggsy only laughed, allowing himself to be subjected to Harry’s roaming touch.

“You always this handsy after gettin’ yer cock drained?” he asked, and when Harry gave his spent cock a quick squeeze, Eggsy twitched out of his grasp. Harry refused to let him go, though, so he only wriggled around to claim a proper kiss from his boss.

His fucking _boss_.

God, this was going to be all kinds of messed up, but as Harry looked at him with fucking Disney eyes and a dopey smile, Eggsy thought, well, fuck it. Here’s here for this now.


End file.
